Quick Study
by such a dreamer
Summary: (RonxHermione) The classic fanfic: Hermione really likes Ron (times three) and Ron is completely oblivious. Want to read and review? Great!


**Quick Study**

There were very few things in life that managed to escape the sharp mind of Hermione Granger, and this was a fact that she was quite proud of. She was used to figuring out puzzles and managed to always make sense of things, even when others couldn't. She was a proud girl, especially when it came to her family and upbringing, and she strived for excellence because of this.

However, there was one subject on which she was completely baffled. She couldn't comprehend it no matter how hard she tried, and often found herself sitting in the Gryffindor common room late at night, shaking her head and writing frantically in a black, coiled notebook.

This is exactly where Hermione found herself one night, as usual. Deciding she couldn't sleep, as usual, she wandered down to the common room, dumping a couple of quills, ink pots and her notebook onto a table. She lit the lantern sitting on it, and was immediately engulfed in a golden light, and she smiled. She slumped down into a comfortable arm chair, and twirled a quill between her fingers as she bit down on her lip.

She was just about to write a couple of jot notes down in her notebook, when her exact subject walked in through the portrait hole, grinning from ear to ear. So her subject wasn't a class or lecture, it was a walking, talking, breathing person, who she could not figure out if her life depended on it. He looked up and noticed her; at this Hermione's heart beat a little faster, and she had to catch her breath.

"Hermione, what are you doing up still? It's almost three in the morning!" the said subject widened his eyes in surprise, and ruffled his hair a little more.

"Just finishing up on some transfiguration homework, that's all."

"I find that hard to believe, considering you're up to date for the next month and a half," he smiled at her, and Hermione found herself wondering how a simple smile could mean so much to her.

"…I just want to make sure I've got everything in order, and I must have lost track of the time…What were you doing up so late?" Hermione inclined her head to meet his gaze.

"Uh…just walking around, you know? Went over to the Ravenclaw common room for awhile," he winked one of his dark, chocolate eyes at her and sat down into the chair next to her. "What are you writing in? That doesn't look like one of your usual notebooks."

Hermione quickly snapped the notebook (some would call it a diary or journal) shut, and tried very hard not to blush. She didn't say a thing for a moment or so, and then hastily added, "Just a book, nothing exciting."

"Right," he agreed, but his eyes sparkled, and she felt he didn't quite believe her. Grinning at her as he got up from his chair, Hermione was (once again) amazed at how tall he was. "I'm on my way to bed, then."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, and scrambled for her materials, "Me too."

She quickly stacked up her books and quills, and he handed the inkpot to her. Their hands quickly came in contact, and she was disappointed to see that he didn't notice in the least. She cursed herself for thinking he actually would.

"See you in the morning – it's a good thing it's Saturday tomorrow, you can sleep in," he stretched his arms above his head, "but I'm beat. Good night, Hermione."

She sighed as he walked up towards the boy's dormitory, and turned to walk up her own. She stopped in her tracks and hesitantly called after him, "Good night, Ron."

- - -

Hermione was seventeen years old, and had never had a serious relationship. She supposed she had had a foreign fling with Viktor Krum, but with Ron breathing down her back the entire time; it hadn't been that memorable. Of course, she was flattered that a famous seeker would seek interest in her (pun intended), but he hadn't been what she wanted.

Ron was what she wanted. She had liked Ron since maybe…third year or so, and she had tried many times to hint at this. Hermione had narrowed it down to two options: either he didn't notice her subtle suggestions, or he completely ignored them because he didn't want the same things she did.

Either way, she was sick and tired of it and unfortunately heartbroken at the same time. Whenever she saw him talking with a pretty blonde girl, or a girl with beautiful blue eyes, there was a dull throbbing in her heart, and she hurt.

"Hermione!"

Groggily, she opened her eyes and peeled off her thick bedspread. Parvati's voice was painfully shrill in the early morning. As she stood up, Hermione felt a flash of pain around her temple.

"Can I borrow your Slick Eeze? My hair just won't lay flat today!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and sat up in bed. Half way through a yawn, she managed to say, "Sure – bottom of my trunk. What time is it?"

"Almost eleven, you've slept in quite a bit. Ginny has been here twice, apparently Ron was waiting downstairs for you. Ginny said he didn't want to wake you, though."

_ Ron?! _Her eyes widened in stupid surprise, and her heart leapt for a second. However, realizing her stupidity, her excitement was soon replaced with an ache and sadness. Hermione opened the curtains surrounding her bed, and found Lavender on the other side.

"He probably wants help on our Potions essay that's due on Tuesday," she said, laughing. "You'd better get down there, Hermione, or I might just go and offer _my_ help to him – if you know what I mean."

Hermione's roommates shared a laugh, and Parvati tossed the container of Slick Eeze to her, before they walked out the room. Sighing, Hermione grabbed her clothes and her robes, and walked into the bathroom to shower.

- - -

"Are you ever going to let him know how you feel?" Hermione looked up from the pages of her book into two vivid green eyes. Harry reached over and took her book, snapping it shut as he sat down beside her. "He really has no idea, you know."

"Ah," she replied mildly, tucking her feet up under her, "hello, Harry."

"I'm dead serious, Hermione. He wants to come down and get your opinion for a shirt to wear under his robes. Apparently he has a date with some girl in Ravenclaw this afternoon. He thinks _you'll _let him know what looks good and what doesn't, considering you're his closest girl friend."

"Well, I _will_ let him know," she said truthfully, shifting her position a little. She didn't like where this conversation was going. She found that the Gryffindor couches were too soft and too squishy, and she struggled to retain her dignity.

"That isn't my point." Harry said directly, "My point is that you should really tell him. It isn't good that he thinks you'll only ever be friends, when you want something more. What are you going to do about it?"

She looked at him in astonishment. Thunderstruck, she repeated, "What am I going to do about it?"

Harry looked at her expectantly. "Yes. What are you going to do? About Ron?"

"What can I do?" Hermione asked, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "He asks me to check his potions homework; he comes to me for wardrobe advice. He clearly doesn't feel the same way I do, and I don't fancy the idea of making a fool of myself, thanks."

He took this into consideration for a second, and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," he agreed, looking her in the eye, "but wouldn't you feel so much better with everything out in the open?"

"I've already told you, Harry, I don't want to make an issue out of this. Its better off this way: Ron has no idea how I feel, and can go on without all the embarrassment and hassle it would bring if he did know. And I'll forget about Ron; maybe not today or tomorrow, but I will."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking towards the spiral staircase. "I don't want you to suffer, Hermione."

"That's sweet," she said, grasping for his hand, "but you don't need to worry."

"It's just that…everyone knows you and Ron are supposed to get together. Arthur and Molly know it, obviously the twins and Ginny and Percy and even Charlie and Bill! They all know it's supposed to happen. I know it, too."

Her eyes glazed over for a second, and she hastily wiped her eyes. "Don't worry," she repeated. "I'll be fine."

"Hullo, Hermione."

"Good morning, Ron," she could feel Harry staring at her she spoke to her favorite redhead. He looked embarrassed about something; he was nervously playing with the copper coloured hair at the nape of his neck.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something, Hermione," he said, looking at her closely. She had been waiting for these words forever, she thought amusedly, however the ones following his statement she could do without hearing. "I have a date with a girl from Ravenclaw and I need your opinion on the shirt I should wear under my robes."

She briefly thought of the worst shirt he had, but discarded the thought immediately. "How about you wear your orange _Chudley_ _Cannons_ shirt? I mean, it looks nice and you'll be comfortable in it."

"Excellent," he said enthusiastically, bending down to give her a kiss on the forehead. He flashed her one of his brilliant smiles and then was running up the stairs to his dormitory, taking two steps at a time.

Hermione looked after him, wondering what had just happened. Harry was slightly smirking at her, but there was a look of pity in his eyes as well. He coughed to bring her back to his attention. Harry asked, "Are you sure, Hermione?"

She glared at him before grabbing her book out of his hands, and turned to her current page. He sighed heavily, and put one of his arms around her.

- - -

Note: Woo. Another Ron-Hermione fan fiction: apparently I'm on a roll. I really like this one though, so let's read and review, okay?! Guess what? SIX days until the opening of HP and the POA!!!


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